


Brazen Bull

by FloatingCow



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, HurtNoctWeek, older bros, younger Noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingCow/pseuds/FloatingCow
Summary: He screams, because he couldn't grow up with his friends.Because he remained the same while they moved on, and even if he had come out the same age as them, then he would still be a twenty-year old screaming through a thirty-year old's body.-For hurtnoctweek day 4 - Noctis comes out of the Crystal still 20 years old.





	Brazen Bull

His stomach twists at the sight of them.

It's not too obvious at first glance. New hairstyles, new facial hair, new clothing choices.

New frown lines. New scars.

Older bodies.

There was an ocean between them. Time had changed his friends, and despite the fact that he could recognize them, he hardly knew who they were.

Noctis had remained completely unchanged, unable to grow up with them. Forever trapped in his awkward, twenty-year-old body.

There was an ocean between them, and even if he had _time_ to cross the gap he would never be able to.

Ten years had passed between them.

Hell, he was closer to Talcott's age than he was to Prompto, Gladio, or Ignis's.

They had spent a _third_ of their life, changing, growing older and wiser - more experienced and _sadder_ \- while he remained unchanged in the crystal.

Prompto had known darkness longer than he had Noct.

Noctis bends over, hands on his knees as he quietly hyperventilates. The lights of Takka's old restaurant buzz above him as he tries to keep from crumbling.

At this point, he would welcome Ardyn's blade.

Noct's ever thankful that they had given him this moment to himself. He can barely stand to show his face in front of them, and shudders at the thought of what they must be thinking now.

He slides down, crossing his arms over his knees and hiding his face in them. Tears spill freely from his clenched eyes as he mourns the loss of the friends he once knew.

There's a hand on his back, and Noct whips his head up.

Prompto has come to sit by him, and by the look of things is on the verge of tears himself. Noctis wipes the tear stains from his cheeks, surprised by Prompto's silent approach.

"It's not fair." Noct's voice is composed as all traces of his grief vanish. All inner weakness fades as he hides behind the mask of 'King'.

Prompto is quiet for a moment, head angled down and chin touching his chest. His hair is shorter, but it still acts as a blind to Prompto's expression.

Sighing heavily, Prompto purses his lips, "No, no it's not."

A daemon howls in the distance.

Prompto gestures with his hand, "I mean, I'm way ahead of you on Kings Knight by now and are you even old enough to drink with us?"

Prompto's laugh is empty, and he trails off to look into the endless darkness.

"It doesn't matter though. We got you back now." He says, misery tracing his words.

Noctis hunches inward, hand coming up to prevent himself from being sick.

They didn't _know_ yet. They didn't know this was their last night together.

That Noctis was destined to die before sunrise.

The pinched look in Prompto's eyes tell him that maybe they _do_ already know, somewhere in the back of their minds.

Maybe, expecting him to live happily ever after with them was just too good to be true.

Prompto pulls him into a hug with a grimace, and he feels so different - his body has been changed and molded by ten years of endless night.

Noctis hates it.

...

Ignis's hand is steady and gentle as it has always been. If Noct closes his eyes, he can pretend that this is any campfire, that it is a normal night spent with his friends.

That it is any night but the last.

Ignis flexes Noct's knee, kneading the muscles and testing the joint. It's unnecessary, but Noct lets him cope his own way.

Noctis almost forgets he is blind as Ignis sets his knee down with a pat and comes to sit in the chair next to him.

"So, how did you enjoy dinner? It was a new recipe." Ignis asks.

"Hmm, not bad. Fit for royalty if I do say so." Noctis quirks a brow at Ignis, despite the other being unable to see it. Nonetheless, his response brings a smile to the other's face.

Ignis was desperately clinging to the normality Noctis seemed to bring, pretending if even for a moment that they were anywhere but here. Nostalgia at having Noct back had reminded them all at what they had once had. It had let them pretend they were twenty and fighting some obscure monster for some extra cash, back when things hadn't gone to hell.

It let Ignis relive those happy moments, just the same as it had Prompto and Gladio. Just as it had Noct.

Even if it was short-lived.

"Will you be ready?" Ignis breathes.

Noctis doesn't need to read minds to know that Ignis wishes for nothing more than just to be able to see his king. Noctis swallows, unable to handle such undying loyalty.

"I'll tell you in the morning."

...

Gladio tackles him to the floor, and Imperial bullets whiz past their heads and lodge themselves into the tile of the underground tunnel.

Noctis shoves down the idea that he is being treated like a _child_ as Gladio gets off him. Gladio was only doing his job, after all.

He takes Gladio's offered hand and lets the other hoist him to his feet.

"Stay back for a bit, Noct."

Noctis almost snarls in frustration. He had handled far worse enemies on his own and yet the other appeared to distrust his strength. Noctis throws a hand in the air and calls upon the ring.

Alterna rips a scream from him just as it does reality.

He screams, and sends his whole being into it.

He screams, because he couldn't grow up with his friends. Because he remained the same while they moved on, and even _if_ he had come out the same age as them, then he would still be a twenty-year old screaming through a thirty-year old's body.

The world pauses around them and silence falls upon the tunnel like the ash from his skin. Noctis keeps his face neutral, avoiding the shocked gazes of his friends upon his back.

Magic carves trails of light across him, branching out from the ring and reaching all the way up to his face.

He can't blame the others for staring too long, instead ignoring their mixed looks and straightening to his full height.

"Let's keep moving." His voice is dead.

His friends say nothing.

...

"Walk tall, my friends."

They watch him, with fists over their hearts, as he says farewell for one last time.

He betrays no emotion, no sign of the distress or grief he had allowed them to witness during their last campfire.

Right now, Noctis sounds like the King he is.

He is the same age they were when they had first started their journey. He is only twenty.

_He is far too young to die,_ they all think, but never dare speak.

Noctis turns away, ending all their memories together, all their time, and everything they ever did together.

This was the end.

It wasn't fair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!
> 
> Please, I'd love to hear your thoughts/comments/concrits!
> 
> My next two entries for hurtnoctweek will be way worse for Noct, so I guess be prepared for lots of hurt and practically no comfort.
> 
> This one was pretty fun to write, I really enjoyed getting into Noct's head.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, you guys are awesome! :)


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